


walking through the fire (please don't let me go)

by boxesofflowers, Eeyoreneedsahug



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Caring Even, Eskild is the Mom Friend, Evak - Freeform, Fever, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sick Isak, Sickfic, Tea, Tea solves all problems, also deals with the eskild and isak fall out about pride, but it's slight, but nope, isak assumes everyone is mad at him, isak thinks everyone hates him, near panic attack, spoiler: no one does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 08:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9597125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxesofflowers/pseuds/boxesofflowers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eeyoreneedsahug/pseuds/Eeyoreneedsahug
Summary: Isak is sick. He doesn't want everyone to hate him. (They could never hate him.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I did take the title from Burnin’ Up by Jessie J. 
> 
> P was working on shit she should actually be working on like our in progress fics and series and prompts but then she decided she needed more suffering *shrug* #noshame
> 
> Hey people! Long time no see. See end notes for reasons if you care:)

“How is it possible that a 4 degree difference in the weather doesn’t matter but 4 degrees in your body is a fucking nightmare?” Even kisses his forehead. His lips feel almost icy against Isak’s skin, and he shivers slightly, curling closer to the older boy. “Fy faen.1”

“Sorry,” Isak sniffles, rubbing his already red nose with a scrap of tissue. “M’fine. You can leave.” He muffles a few coughs, wincing as they tear at his throat. The truth is he doesn’t want Even to leave, not by a long shot, but he feels guilty for ruining their day together. Also, he really doesn’t want to get Even sick, and he’s pretty sure if they keep lying like this Even is going to catch whatever he has.

“You think I’m gonna leave?” Even teases softly, and tucks some of the younger boy’s hair behind his ear with gentle fingers. “Not a fucking chance.”

Isak lets out a heavy breath, trying to sort through his nebulous thoughts. Even was right about the fever. It’s a fucking nightmare. His head sort of feels like it’s floating, his eyes ache, and his entire body is trembling. Everything is hazy and hot and uncomfortable. The only things grounding him are Even’s touches, careful and tender.

“Mm,” he hums, and Even laughs softly, touching his nose to Isak’s. 

“Mmm,” he imitates, and Isak gives him a weak smile. Even’s hand is still in his hair, fingers moving in small circles.

“Ev?” Isak coughs, sniffling again. Even kisses his cheek, wincing at the heat he feels.

“Ja.” There are a few moments of silence before Isak frowns slightly, rubbing his eyes.

“...I forget.”

“You’re _so_ sick, Iss. Worse than normal.” Even estimates that Isak catches something at least once a month, whether it be a mild cold or a stomach bug or a miserable virus like this one. Regardless, he always tries to hide it from Even, which almost always results in near disaster. 

Isak hadn’t been able to keep this illness to himself for long. The fever had been keeping him up for the past two nights, and his constantly running nose was pretty hard to hide in itself. So now he’s lying in bed, facing his boyfriend, dizzy and sick and exhausted.

“Ev,” he breathes, his eyes slipping closed, and Even runs a thumb over his throbbing temple.

“I think I’m gonna grab the thermometer.” Isak lets out a little whine, his eyebrows drawing together slightly. “What?”

“Don’go,” his voice is slurred slightly, and he grips Even’s t-shirt with trembling fingers.

“I gotta. Your brain is gonna melt if I don’t.” However, Even doesn’t move, just stays lying where he is. Isak huffs out a short breath, and rubs at his nose with his wrist. “I promise I’ll be back.”

“Stay.” Even holds the hand that grips his shirt, lifts it to kiss the knuckles. Isak sighs again, and Even sits up.

“Right back. Promise.” He can almost feel Isak’s eyes on him as he walks from the room into the hall, closing the door quietly. He turns, and immediately bumps into Eskild, who looks as if he was about to knock.

“Oh. Even. Hi,” Eskild says, raising his eyebrows. He looks surprised, and he tilts his head.

“Yeah. Hi. What’s up?” Eskild stalls for a moment, narrowing his eyes.

“I didn’t know you were here,” he says, frowning slightly. “You’re with him, I’m assuming?” Even laughs softly, cracking a smile.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “That’s an issue?”

“Oh, no, fuck no, just uh - you know he’s sick then.” It isn’t a question. Still, Eskild looks like he’s waiting for a response.

“Yeah.” Eskild bites his lip.

“So you’re taking care of...him, then?” The younger boy nods. “That’s good.” Eskild sighs.

“You were about to assess the catastrophe?” Even asks, and Eskild smiles.

“I was. I actually tried to stay in today, I made up an excuse, but he wasn’t buying it. When I left this morning he wasn’t doing well, so...” He trails off, shrugging. “Was kind of dreading coming back. Not ‘cause I don’t want to take care of him, I mean, shit, it’s a little late for that, but I felt bad. For leaving.”

“Right.” Even nods.

“How is he?”

“Not good. I was just getting -”

Eskild holds up the first aid kit - the small Hello Kitty purse that Noora had used to consolidate the apartment’s odd collection of cold medicine and band-aids. Even smiles gratefully.

“Thanks,” he says, and takes the bag.

“I’ll put on some water for tea.” Eskild gives him a smile and claps him on the shoulder, heading down the hall.

Even walks back into the bedroom, seeing Isak propped up on his elbows, glassy eyes focused on the door.

“Eskild’s home?” he murmurs, his voice hoarse and strained from coughing. He must’ve overheard the conversation.

“Yeah. You really have to let people take care of you.”

“You take care of me.” Even sits down on the edge of the mattress, fishing around in the purse for the digital thermometer.

“Barely. Only when things spin out of control and you can’t physically keep me away. Then, I take care of you.” He slips the device between Isak’s lips, but the younger boy quickly takes it out.

“I don’t think I have a fever, Ev.” His cheeks are flushed bright red, his breath shallow, his blonde curls stuck to the nape of his neck with sweat. “M’okay. I don’t-” he swallows hard, “Need this.”

“Isak, I’m not fucking around, ok?”

“Neither am I,” he says breathlessly.

“C’mon, Iss, I don’t wanna do this. I can’t...play this game with you today. I need to know how high your temp is.”

“I already took it. It’s normal. Just lay down with me,” he almost whines, and Even sets his jaw.

“No. Now give me the thermometer.”

Isak knows he’s backed into a corner. No matter what he does now, everything is gonna go to shit. He knows, almost 100%, that his fever is way too high, and the minute Even finds out he’s going to be worried out of his mind. On the other hand, if he keeps trying to avoid it, Even’s just going to get frustrated and leave and then Isak will be absolutely all alone in bed, which he’s dreading.

“Please. Just hold me,” he whimpers. Why is his voice shaking? He feels cold tears on his cheeks. Even cups his face with a freezing hand, almost roughly, and his lips press together. 

“Babe…” Even starts looking into Isak’s eyes, glassy with fever. He pauses, considering. Isak is very sick, but he’s also absolutely miserable. “I can do that,” he continues after a moment. “But only after we take your temperature,” he finishes. Isak frowns slightly, pressing his face into Even’s palm.

“Just...I don’t…” he stutters, “It’s gonna make you sad. I can’t make you sad,” he mumbles, and Even takes a slow breath.

“C’mon.”

Reluctantly, Isak places the thermometer under his own tongue, and Even lets out a heavy sigh. They sit in tense silence for what feels like an eternity before the device finally beeps and Even takes it from his lips.

“Helvete. 39.8. I know your fevers are usually bad but this is...not normal. You can’t...you can’t let things get this bad, Isak.” It’s a little late for that, Isak wants to say, but he senses that this would only make things worse. He was right, Even is sad. And it’s Isak’s fault.

“M’sorry. Really really.” He feels another tear slip down his cheek.

“No, it’s ok. Don’t apologize, it’s alright. Right now we just...I just really need to get your fever under control.” Even’s tone has softened.

“It’s bad?”

“Yeah, baby, it’s bad.” He rummages through the first aid kit almost frantically, and Isak watches passively, unfocused eyes barely trained on his boyfriend’s face.

“You gotta…” he feels like he’s out of breath, “Lay down with me. You said...you said so.”

“I know. After. I promise.” Finally, he seems to find what he’s looking for - a small bottle of paracet. He picks up the still untouched water bottle that Eskild had left that morning, unscrewing the cap, and hands it to Isak along with two pills. “Here.”

He swallows them dutifully, but he can feel his stomach twist, already rebelling against what little he’s ingested.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Tea delivery.” It’s Eskild’s voice.

“Come in,” Even says, and the door opens. As soon as Eskild catches a glance of Isak he stops, setting down the two mugs on the bedside table. “Can you grab some ice?”

“No, s’fine, Eskild,” Isak slurs, and Eskild gives Even a questioning glance. “Really.”

“I have a cold pack from the time Noora hurt her wrist?”

“That’ll work. The tea is -?”

“Vanilla orange. No sugar.” Eskild presses his lips together when he looks at Isak, crossing his arms nervously over his chest. The sick boy sighs in what might be either appreciation or aggravation. It's hard to tell. “I’ll be right back. With the ice.”

Before Even has a chance to thank him, Eskild’s left, and Isak is busy trying to bury himself in the pillows. Slowly, Even shifts more of his body onto the bed until he’s sitting with his back against the wall. He tries to gently maneuver his boyfriend’s limp frame so he’s resting against him, and he’s mostly successful, ending up with Isak’s head in the crook of his neck, his bare shoulder blades pressing against Even’s chest.

“M’sorry,” he rasps, and Even tightens his hold slightly. “I…”

“Don’t. It’s okay.”

“You’re mad.” Even tries to pull the blanket up, but Isak pushes it away weakly with his feet.

“I’m not mad. You want your tea, or you’re too hot?” Even asks, trying to shift his boyfriend’s delirious focus onto something more concrete. Isak shakes his head, sniffling.

“You’re mad,” he repeats, but Even just strokes his hair.

“I swear I’m not, babe. I think you’ll feel better when you drink some tea. I know your throat hurts but I think -” Isak coughs, clipping Even’s words short.

“You are, I know you are,” he finally mumbles.

Even reaches over and takes one of the mugs, placing it in Isak’s trembling hands. He looks at it as if he’s not sure what to do.

“Take a fucking sip, babe.”

Eskild walks back into the room holding the ice pack, and chuckles when he sees them.

“Koselig2?” he asks, and Even gives a small nod. Eskild walks up to the bed, laying first his palm, then the back of his hand on Isak’s forehead. “Christ.”

“You hate me,” Isak is still mumbling. His teeth are starting to chatter, but from fever or anxiety, Even isn’t sure. 

“Hey. Hey. Look at me. Isak. Isak.” Even tries to get Isak’s focus back on him, but he’s not entirely there. His eyes are half lidded, his gaze distant. “Isak?”

“You should just go. I know...I know you don’t like me.” Isak tries to shift away from Even, but the older boy holds him gently in place. Isak whimpers then, his shivers picking up in intensity. Eskild turns to leave.

“Where are you going?” Even asks, and Eskild stops, giving a small shrug.

“He wants me to leave.”

“No, he’s talking to me, he thinks I’m...mad,” Even says quietly. Isak doesn’t give any indication he’s aware that they’re talking now, his eyes have slipped closed and his breath is coming in tired, slow, pants.

“Sorry, I thought he might’ve been - I mean, he has good reason to think I’m mad too,” Eskild huffs a bitter laugh. “Over the whole...gay rights thing, still. I _was_ pissed at him. But...I ignored him when he needed me. He came out and...It’s...he’s so young. He’s damaged I think. His trust is damaged.” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head.

“He’s just...out of his mind right now,” Even tries to explain, but some of what Eskild is saying makes sense about Isak’s behavior around his older friend. 

“I know,” Eskild says. Even gives him a sad smile. 

Even turns his attention briefly back to Isak, whose hands still weakly grip the mug of tea, his eyes closed. Carefully, he runs a hand through his sweat damp hair. The touch makes Isak stir, and Even grabs the tea to keep it from spilling all over the sheets. The younger boy looks confused for a moment before seeming to understand the situation.

“Ev, I know -”

“I’m not upset. Neither is Eskild.”

“Eskild...he’s here? Faen3, my rent was late. Was my rent late?”

“Isak, no. Everything’s fine, I’m just concerned,” Eskild says, and Isak rubs his eyes.

“Both…” he swallows hard, the flush on his cheeks standing out against his pale skin. “Both of you are upset and I’m so sorry, I-” he chokes on a sob and starts to cough, crumpling forward.

Even rubs his back, trying gently to calm him down.

“Hey, you’re alright. It’s ok. Calm down,” Even whispers, and Eskild hands him the ice pack. He holds it to the back of Isak’s neck, and he whines softly. “Let’s lie down.”

Isak shakes his head. “I need...I need to pay rent. I have to go to school. The 10%.”

“Shh, it’s alright. Everything’s taken care of. You’re allowed to be sick. Relax. We got everything covered,” Even says, keeping his voice measured and calm.

“Yeah?” Isak’s voice is small, quiet.

“Mmhmm,” Even murmurs.

“And nobody...nobody’s mad?” he whispers. His breathing is getting slower, as Even continues talking to him softly. 

“No, baby. Just sleep.” He cups the younger boy’s hot cheek and kisses his forehead. “I’m here.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1God dammit  
> 2cozy  
> 3Fuck
> 
>  
> 
> List of reasons: Medical, School. The End. Ok. We’re back though and feeling better (literally both of us were sick but not at the same time and I’m just a wimp and P might have a weird parasite (fuck really? shit man -Chloë) etc.) We obviously edit our end notes very well.
> 
>  
> 
> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)!  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
> [Priscilla’s tumblr ](http://boxesofflowers.tumblr.com)!


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